


not a feeling nor promise

by bog gremlin (tomatocages)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron) Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Minor Hunk/Keith (Voltron), Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pansexual Hunk (Voltron), Samoan Hunk (Voltron), Sheith is endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatocages/pseuds/bog%20gremlin
Summary: In which Hunk attempts to play matchmaker for Keith and Shiro, but accidentally convinces all and sundry thatHunk’sthe one who wants to get with Keith.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 559





	not a feeling nor promise

**Author's Note:**

> I believe that witness is a magnitude of vulnerability.  
> That when I say love what I mean is not a feeling  
> nor promise of a feeling. I believe in attention.  
> My love for you is a monolith of try.
> 
> \-- From [“What Space Faith Can Occupy,” ](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/146920/what-space-faith-can-occupy)by TC Tolbert

Hunk is a romantic, but in, like, a pragmatic kind of way. He’d like to see Keith and Shiro get it together, because they’re his friends and he wants them to be happy, but he also wants them to get together because the whole “mutual pining” thing is getting out of hand. Hunk is positive that the coalition would get a lot more done if only Shiro would stop staring mournfully at the landing requests to see if Keith is scheduled to return from a mission. He’s pretty sure the Blades have a similar sentiment, based on how often Acxa rolls her eyes when Keith is being particularly cautious regarding Shiro’s safety. She’s right, Hunk thinks; it’s a little comical. Shiro has a freaking battering ram for an arm, not to mention a really horrible work history in gladiator fighting. Shiro is taller than Keith, and broader, and outweighs him, and is in general a force to be reckoned with.

In Keith’s defense, Shiro’s sense of self-preservation is frankly horrible — it’s almost as bad as Keith’s. Hunk does not care that Keith is a half-alien special ops agent with all the survival qualities of a tardigrade. Keith could stand to take his own advice.

Anyway: Keith and Shiro. Hunk thinks they should just give in to whatever is simmering between them. It would be a public service, and anyway, both Keith and Shiro have had a lousy couple of years. Maybe this would cheer them up.

Hunk’s training to be a diplomat — Allura says he has potential, which Hunk will take with a grain of salt, because Allura...is not particularly diplomatic herself — so he takes a subtle approach. He’s going to see if suggesting Keith find a romantic partner will galvanize Shiro into action. If actions speak louder than words, Keith has been shouting for a couple of years; it’s not fair to make Keith do all the heavy lifting.

“So is Keith seeing anyone?” Hunk asks Acxa when she stops by the little coffee nook he installed in the arrivals hangar. Sue him; Hunk likes to have a snack break when he’s putting in long hours recalibrating the ships that come back scuffed and worse, and it’s a nice little welcome gesture for the pilots and crews. Plus, the gossip he hears is amazing.

Acxa blinks slowly at Hunk, the way his third auntie does to convey that a question is ridiculous, but she will consider answering anyway, you poor fool, since you so obviously need the help. “Why do you ask?”

“Of course you’re deflecting, I forget that you’re a spy,” Hunk says. “I was just wondering! Keith’s a great guy, I’d be shocked if no one wanted to settle down with him. He deserves to have someone look after him!”

“Huh.” Acxa cocks her head to the side, considering. “Are you asking for...a friend?”

Keith is his friend. Shiro is his friend. Hunk is definitely asking for the both of them. “Sure.”

“Keith could use a _friend_ ,” Acxa says. Hunk knew he should have asked someone else; Acxa is famously immovable, unless you happen to be Veronica McClain, who is notoriously unstoppable. Also, he has just remembered that Acxa is unstintingly loyal to Keith and could kill Hunk without breaking a sweat.

“Forget I asked,” Hunk says. Oh, god, _he’s_ sweating. Time for a little redirect: “Did you try a cookie? It’s a new recipe, I’m taking critiques.”

“Thanks,” Acxa says.

She likes the cookies; apparently, she’s never had dried mango before. Now Hunk has another travesty to worry about — no mango! — but he supposes that’s just life in a postwar galaxy.

Come to think of it, his mango stash is running low — Hunk makes a mental note to check in on culinary extinctions post-invasion. It’s a slightly lower priority than fixing the problem of Shiro and Keith, but only because Hunk can directly influence them.

Hopefully.

*

Hunk figures he might as well talk directly to Shiro, if only so Shiro will take an actual lunch break. (Hunk knows that Shiro eats — he sets timers and follows a strict schedule — but that’s not the same thing as taking your time and letting a meal digest.)

He broaches the topic gently. It’s a perfect setup: Shiro is mid-slurp of the chilled noodle salad Hunk prepared specially for this meeting, and Hunk knows for a fact that the buckwheat is on the chewy side (it’s a design feature!), so he’ll have a chance to get his entire thought out before Shiro interrupts. Shiro is too polite to talk with his mouth full.

“Do you think Keith is lonely?”

Shiro makes a confused, possibly panicked noise, but the noodles and whatever ancestral ghost that enforces Shiro’s manners do their job.

“I mean,” Hunk continues, “He’s got his dog, and his mom is around now, that’s really great, I don’t know what I’d do if I never knew my mom, you know? But all he does is take missions and attend meetings. I feel like Keith needs a person. You know, to love him.”

“What,” Shiro swallows a mouthful that can’t have been properly chewed; Hunk winces in sympathy. There’s nothing quite like the pain of a too-large swallow, and noodles always tickle his gag reflex. Shiro coughs a bit, and scrubs the back of his hand across his mouth to clear away a streak of sauce, then tries again. “What are you saying, Hunk? I don’t think Keith’s uh, lonely. Keith’s great.”

“‘Course he’s great,” Hunk says. “You know that. I know that! But do you think Keith has anyone who really appreciates him? Like a partner? He’s so cool and strong — ”

Shiro coughs again. Those noodles, they’re a killer. “Do you have someone in mind, Hunk?”

“Just sounding it out! Looking at the situation,” Hunk says. “I’m an engineer, I like to fix things.”

“Keith’s not a problem to be solved.” Shiro looks especially foreboding, an expression he normally only pulls out for administrative meetings. “He doesn’t need to be fixed. Keith is perfect — perfectly fine the way he is.”

“But he could be better!” Hunk says. He gestures emphatically with his fork; now they’re getting somewhere. “A partner could support him, and — and make sure he eats, or sleeps, or takes breaks! He can’t save the universe on his own!”

“He has an entire Blade squadron with him on those missions. Keith’s not alone anymore,” Shiro says.

“That’s not the same thing, Shiro,” Hunk shakes his head. “I’m just saying, as his friend — Keith listens to you! I bet if you encouraged him, he’d realize he needs to open up.”

“Right.” Shiro’s looking mulish. Well, Hunk hopes he’s having an epiphany; Shiro’s jaw is very nice and chiseled, objectively speaking, but he really shouldn’t grind his teeth like that. He’s going to get a tension headache.

“You never know,” Hunk says, cheerfully unpacking the little containers of pisua he made special for dessert. “Keith could have already met the love of his life! Maybe he’s been in front of him this whole time.” He’s laying it on a little thick, but seriously: years of pining. If they keep it up, even Lance will notice.

“Maybe so,” Shiro says. He still looks kind of mad — well, maybe he’ll do something about it.

At least he eats his pisua. If he’d wasted it on top of being so oblivious about the dating Keith thing, Hunk would probably cry.

*

Keith’s scheduled to return from a mission pretty soon, barring a civil war (it’s happened), mechanical failure (unlikely, Hunk was the one who checked over his ship before Keith left last time), or grievous bodily harm (there’s a betting pool; Keith’s due for three cracked ribs and a concussion _at least_ ). Hunk realizes that Keith is extremely shy and dislikes crowds. So the party he stages in the arrivals hangar is a small one.

“I don’t think we tell Keith we appreciate him enough,” Hunk tells Allura. She’s helping him set up a table for snacks, and by _helping him set up,_ Hunk means that she’s moving furniture and Hunk’s unpacking containers from a cooler. “I mean, the guy has serious abandonment issues, he joins an elite spy organization, he has a self-sacrificing streak a mile wide — do you remember Naxela? _I_ remember Naxela, and it gives me nightmares — he finally meets his mom, and then does he take a minute to relax? No! He throws himself into a wormhole, saves Shiro for probably the twelfth time, and then gets right back down to business!”

Hunk takes a breath. Wow, he’s let that build up for a while.

“Keith is very strong,” Allura says, carefully. “And he did have those two years on the Space Whale, I’m sure that was relaxing.” She picks up a crate that probably weighs almost as much as Hunk and sets it down at a more pleasing angle before perching atop it, crossing her legs at the ankles. Well, she _is_ a princess.

“I’m sure exile was _super relaxing_. And yeah, he’s strong, and he’s cool, and he’s got ridiculous hair,” Hunk says. “And he saved my family! He’s always had my back, even when I was a jerk to him.” He pulls a last container out of the cooler and plonks it onto the table, then busies himself with setting out little napkins. They’re biodegradable; he really thinks they add a nice pop of color to the spread.

“I’m sure Keith understands,” Allura says, in a tone that indicates that _she_ doesn’t understand, and would like to change the subject. “You’re a good friend, Hunk.”

“Keith’s a good friend,” Hunk says. “He deserves to feel special.”

“I think you’ve got that part figured out.” Now Allura sounds amused. She hops down off the crate and helps Hunk adjust the banner Pidge and Lance helped them make: _Welcome Home, Keith!_ it blares, in a riot of colors. Lance’s nephews picked out the colors, which explains why there’s so much purple involved. Hunk opted not to inform Shiro of the welcome wagon; Shiro’s usually busy, but he can always be counted on to show up as soon as Keith’s ship enters the atmosphere. The party has a twofold purpose: celebrate Keith, and remind Shiro that Keith is a catch.

Everybody else trickles in as Keith’s ship comes closer to its landing time slot. Hunk’s starting to feel nervous; what if he made a treat that Keith’s allergic to? What if Keith is hurt? What if Hunk invited too many people?

That last worry is a valid one. Hunk’s treat table is a draw on a good day, and he pulled out all the stops for this, so word has spread. There are a couple of Alteans milling close to the drinks, and Veronica is idly reading the little identification cards Hunk wrote out for each dish on the table. Veronica was not invited, strictly, but since Hunk is counting on Veronica’s presence to distract Acxa from asking any pointed questions when she, Keith, and the rest of the squad disembark, he’s not inclined to fuss. James Griffin, he’s not so sure of.

Keith rolls in, looking objectively pretty and exhausted. By some miracle (and, ok, his back-door access to the docking system, Hunk knows how to use the tools at his disposal), Hunk is the first to greet him.

“Keith!” He’s so relieved that Keith has arrived in one piece, and that he no longer needs to stress about the party becoming an impromptu wake or something, that Hunk sounds more rapturous than usual. “Buddy, welcome home!”

Keith’s not much of a hugger, but Hunk has been working on that. It’s paid off: when Hunk sweeps Keith up into the air and squeezes tight around his waist, Keith doesn’t flinch or eel out of Hunk’s grasp. Instead, he softens a little, and curls into the hug. “Hey,” he laughs. If a laugh could have dark circles under its metaphorical eyes, Keith’s laugh would be the picture next to the dictionary entry. “Hunk, what’s the occasion?”

“Ahem.” Oh, there’s Shiro. He’s … right on time.

Hunk relinquishes his hold on Keith, a little mournfully. He does _miss_ Keith when he’s away. “Sorry, didn’t mean to break up the dream team,” Hunk says. “Just had to get a hug in before he gets swept away by the rest of the party!”

“Is it my birthday?” Keith wonders.

“You birthday’s in October,” Shiro answers, shouldering Hunk out of the way and drawing Keith close into one of their incredibly tender, obvious embraces. “If you can’t remember what month it is on Earth, then you’ve been away too long.”

“Shiro,” Keith breathes. He relaxed when Hunk hugged him; when Shiro holds him, it’s like watching one of those old magical realism films Lance loves, where the protagonist is so overcome that their bones turn to water. Really, Hunk’s plan had better work. It’s too sad to consider an outcome other than Keith and Shiro getting married and settling down, maybe adopt a war orphan or a bunch of feral cats. Keith seems like a cat person.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Hunk says, fully aware that Keith and Shiro are once again trapped in their emotionally fraught little bubble. “There are snacks over by the table, you know I’ll hunt you down if you don’t eat anything!” And he spins away, gracefully.

That’s when Acxa corners him ( _spies_ , Hunk reminds himself. _She joined a group of spies_ ).

“Why the party?” At least she cuts to the chase.

“Just wanted Keith to know he was appreciated,” Hunk says. “Maybe set the stage for him to consider adding a little romance to his busy schedule, help him get out there.”

“Romance,” Acxa says. “Right, your friend who’s interested in him.”

“Well, Keith’s a catch!” Hunk says. “It’s gotta happen sooner or later, he’s too pretty to be alone.”

“That’s not how it works,” Veronica says from behind him. Ugh, Lance is right; she needs to wear a bell or something. “Not everybody wants romance. That’s pretty closed-minded of you, Hunk, I thought you wanted to be a diplomat.”

“You know what I mean,” Hunk tells her crossly. He’s wise to her tricks. “I just think Keith’s a great guy, it wouldn’t be surprising if someone noticed and wanted to sweep him off his feet. Of course Keith would have the final say in it!”

Veronica’s already ignoring him, of course. “Acxa,” she croons, “speaking of romance: will you run away with me?”

Acxa — blushes. Hunk would stare, because there’s something wildly cute about a murderous and terrifying soldier who gets _flustered_ , but he’s wise enough to take the out.

“I swore an oath — ” He hears Acxa say, and then, from Veronica:

“Don’t be a dummy, I just want you to kiss me and then help me prank Lance.”

Well. There’s a lid for every pot.

*

The party doesn’t last too much longer, which is good — seriously, the bags under Keith’s eyes have luggage of their own, does he even sleep when he’s on a mission? — because Keith actually stays to the bitter end and helps Hunk clean up. That was supposed to be Pidge’s job, but they weasled off to pull statistical logs from Keith’s ship, so Hunk won’t blame them. As a rule, the paladins aren’t quite sure how to manage the care and feeding of Keith. Everyone has a different skill set.

“Nice party,” Keith says. He spent most of it talking to Shiro, their heads bent together so they could hear one another over the din of the hangar and the celebration. Hunk hopes it was a conversation that included loving sentiments, but realistically, Keith and Shiro were probably dissecting Keith’s approach and landing. Fair; Hunk personally hates flying in just about every capacity; But watching Keith fly is like watching one of Hunk’s uncles dance the Siva Afi: it’s beautiful, and dangerous, and Hunk prefers to admire from a distance.

“Well, I like a party,” Hunk says. “Sorry, I know you’re not the biggest fan, but I couldn’t think of anything else. It’s really good to see you. I missed you.”

Keith always looks a little stunned when he gets a compliment. It’s better than it used to be — when they were first on the castleship, it was painfully obvious that Keith didn’t know how to have a conversation, let alone hear something nice said in his general direction — but Hunk still aches a little at the look on Keith’s face now. Even knowing his mother, and surviving the war, it takes a lot for Keith to share his vulnerabilities. Hunk isn’t always a good friend, but he wants to be better.

Just the thought of Keith not knowing that he’s important has Hunk tearing up and pulling Keith into another hug. “You’re so important, Keith,” he sobs. “Even before you became a fancy senior leader who runs around saving the galaxy.”

“Um,” Keith says, which. Is fair. “Hunk, buddy, are you ok?”

Hunk reins himself in and relinquishes his hold, wiping his eyes on the baggy sleeve of his shirt. “I should be asking you that,” he laughs. “Yeah, I’m ok. I just started thinking while you were away, and I got so worried — Keith, are you lonely?”

It’s not a fair question to ask, especially not to someone like Keith. Hunk is pretty sure Keith is always lonely, to some degree or another. It doesn’t have anything to do with having people around; Hunk suspects that it’s been a way of life for Keith for so long that he doesn’t have the emotional tools to alter his course. It’s clear to anyone with eyes that Keith is lonely, and it’s probably even clear to a sightless subterranean alien species that cannot see, only hear the heaviness of the footsteps above their dens. It’s as obvious that Keith is lonely as it is that Keith is in love with Shiro.

“Never mind,” Hunk says. He hugs Keith again and gives in to the impulse to keep an arm draped over Keith’s narrow shoulders; he should eat more. “Tell me which leftovers you want, then I’ll walk ‘em back to your quarters. You need sleep.”

*

The plan is going so well — surely Shiro has realized that Keith is a valuable person, and Shiro should put a ring on it as soon as possible. (Hunk has always had a fondness for twenty-first century R&B Beyonce had a point.) After Hunk has gently shepherded Keith to bed, and left him a nutritious meal in the mini fridge Keith always claims is sufficient for his needs, Hunk returns to the communal kitchen that, regretfully, adjoins Pidge’s lab. He does his best thinking when he cooks.

All this romantic possibility has tempted Hunk to bake a cake — an elaborate one, with warm spices and miso-caramel frosting. Not a wedding cake; but a cake to celebrate a more tentative union. (Not to say that Hunk doesn't have a plan for a cake if Keith and Shiro get married; he’s not an amateur. Hunk has designs for _all_ of the paladins’ theoretical wedding cakes, just like he has plans for augmenting any ships his friends may or may not set foot on.)

But first, he has to clear Pidge’s latest experiment out of the sink. Well, it might be an experiment; it might also be the remains of their last attempt at making hemp milk. It’s hard to tell.

“I thought you promised to clean up after yourself,” he complains when Pidge sidles into the kitchen, one hand clutching a beaker of blue sludge. It has a faint, disconcerting glow; Hunk suspects he’ll soon see a press release from the science department announcing a development in Earth-Olkari recycling technology.

“I did,” Pidge says serenely. “I just never specified a timetable.”

Hunk always forgets that Pidge is a youngest child. He’s not sure why; it’s glaringly obvious.

“Anyway,” Pidge says, “It’s clear from your little display today — nice party, I liked the piñon coffee — that you’ve got something on your mind, and I’m a little hurt you didn’t think to augment your plans with the combined brain power of Team Punk.”

“Huh?”

Pidge fiddles with their glasses. “Hunk,” they say, “is something going on with Keith?”

“No more than usual,” Hunk allows. “But I think we’re on the cusp of something, Pidge. I think it could be really good for him.”

“If you’re sure.” Then, in a more animated tone: “Whatcha making?”

“Sense of your mess,” Hunk responds. “What is this, hemp milk?”

“Nah,” Pidge says. “I was trying to augment a biofuel with nanoparticles that can sync with a ship’s diagnostics panel, but I think I added too much banana or something. It caught fire.”

“I do not understand why you switched from computers,” Hunk sighs. “And aren’t bananas extinct?”

“Not _all_ bananas.”

“Comforting.”

“Right?” Pidge grins, enthusiastic and a little maniacal. “Let me know if you want help with Keith.”

“We can talk,” Hunk laughs. “But _after_ you clean this mess up, I can’t tell if this is mold or a quasi-intelligent biofilm.”

*

Hunk doesn’t really miss the Lions, because he certainly doesn’t miss being at war. He liked Yellow, liked how big and strong and _safe_ she felt around him, and he liked finding the strength within himself to overcome his generalized terror. He’s still anxious — it’s Hunk’s temperament, he’s sensitive that way, and he likes himself this way — but he’s grown. Yellow helped with that, and then their time together ended.

All that being said, he really misses Yellow when Shiro corners him in Hunk’s workroom. It’s been a few days since the party, and after Keith managed some sleep, he’s been more of a fixture around the other paladins than he usually is. Hunk’s been making a point to welcome Keith in, or share meals with him; it keeps Keith out of Coalition meetings that Shiro’s attending. Keith doesn’t need to be at those meetings; Keith needs to take a break.

Keith’s absence was noted. That was kind of the point, but Hunk didn’t think that he’d be the one caught in the crossfire.

“Hunk,” Shiro says, sounding perfectly pleasant but displaying the mildly threatening posture he tends to assume when negotiating with more combative Coalition representatives, “couldn’t help but notice you’ve been busy lately.”

“I mean, isn’t everyone?” Is it warm in his workroom? Hunk should get that checked out, it’s not good for the electronics. “I’ve got a couple of projects I’m working on, and I’ve been researching cultural diplomacy — ”

“I meant outside of work,” Shiro says. “Spending extra time with people, asking questions. Sounds like you have something on your mind. Something about Keith, maybe?”

Oh, good; Shiro noticed. “Yeah, of course! I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it, but if that’s why you stopped by — ”

Shiro cuts Hunk off again. He’s being really rude this morning, and it’s making Hunk feel like he’s done something wrong.

“I just think,” Shiro says, “that if you’re interested in Keith — and I get that, really, I do — you should talk to _Keith_ , not to everyone else on base. You gotta grow up. Frankly, I expected better from you.”

Wait.

“You think I want to date Keith?!”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been hinting at? I thought it was weird when you ran it by me at lunch, but throwing a party? That’s not how Keith operates, you can’t ambush him.”

“Me and Keith,” Hunk says, stunned. Wow. It’s not like Hunk’s never thought about it, in the idle way he thinks about any improbably nice thing. Keith’s beautiful and quietly kind, and Hunk admires him. Kissing Keith would probably be fun; Hunk generally likes being bigger than his partners, because he likes taking care of people. He could probably heft Keith off of his feet, if Keith was in the mood for it. Judging from how Keith reacts to the space wolf draping itself over him, Keith would probably like cuddling. Hunk’s an excellent cuddler.

“I mean,” Shiro’s saying, unaware of Hunk’s epiphany. “Keith’s amazing. I think you have a shot, if you talk to him. But you can’t just maneuver around him like this, it makes it seem like you don’t trust him. And Keith’s the most trustworthy person I know, Hunk. He deserves honesty.”

Hunk shakes off a minor fantasy of cuddling with Keith, keeping him cozy and safe and well-loved. Shiro seems like he’s almost circled to a realization of his own, which was the entire point of this exercise.

“That’s fair,” Hunk manages. “Keith deserves a lot of things, but honesty’s right up there. He deserves someone who loves him.”

“Yeah,” Shiro deflates a little, his voice cracks. He looks sad, suddenly, and tired. Hunk always forgets that Shiro’s bad at this kind of thing; he’s normally so competent. “I know, I know. You’ve got a big heart, Hunk.”

Maybe the problem wasn’t that Shiro was oblivious after all.

“Shiro,” Hunk says, gently, accompanying the words with a hug. Shiro looks like he could use one. “Even if I asked Keith out — and I wasn’t thinking of that until, like, right now, not because he’s not great, but — Keith loves you.”

Shiro laughs a little, which isn’t as good of a sign as Hunk was hoping for. It’s a watery laugh, stripped of confidence. “He said as much,” Shiro allows.

“Don’t you love him, too?” Hunk asks. “After all this time — ”

A sharp inhale distracts him, and Hunk turns to see Keith standing in the doorway to the workroom, looking stunned and wide-eyed. He obviously stopped by for a drink; Hunk’s been making increasingly bizarre variations on old-Earth coffee drinks since Keith got back. Keith’s got his favorite mug in hand, the one with a little cerulean monster and the phrase _without you I’m blue and dragon_.

Now that Hunk’s entertained the idea of Keith as a prospective romantic partner for himself, he can appreciate the juxtaposition of strength and vulnerability Keith radiates. He’s got his hair pulled back in a messy little ponytail and he’s dressed down in an assortment of clothes from the communal paladin hamper. It looks like he’s wearing a pair of workout legging Allura wore once and offered up to the clothes bin, and possibly one of Hunk’s old shirts — but it might be one that belonged to Shiro. Keith could still absolutely take Hunk in a fight, and he could probably give Shiro a run for his money, too — Hunk can attest that crying makes _him_ less effective in a fight, so he assumes the same for Shiro.

“Keith,” Shiro says, roughly pulling away from Hunk. “Hey, buddy.”

“Good morning,” Keith says. His eyes are bright. Hunk thinks Keith might be shaking, a little, even if the thought is ridiculous. “What’s going on?”

“Hunk has something to tell you,” Shiro says, and he runs a hand over his face, as if the gesture could camouflage his distress. Unlikely; Keith is an expert in Shiro’s body language.

“I do,” Hunk says, firmly. It’s a documented fact that their lives are improbable and ridiculous, but this is the limit. If Hunk doesn’t fix this, everyone is going to be miserable. He can’t stand it any longer. “Keith, you’re an amazing person. Really. I can’t think of a better friend, and I know that you’re responsible for my survival in more than one way. I love you.” Shiro flinches, but Hunk’s still got a hold on his flesh arm. He’s not done. “But I’m not in love with you,” he continues.

“What?” Keith looks uncomfortable and stunned. Hunk feels a little apologetic, because this is like exposure therapy for Keith. He’s _so bad_ at hearing nice things about himself.

“I think Shiro’s in love with you,” Hunk presses on. “And I know you love him. And this whole tragic pining thing you two have got going on is very romantic, but I have watched telenovelas that resolved more quickly. Shiro,” he says, “do you love Keith?”

“Of course I do,” Shiro snaps.

“Then I don’t see why you both need to keep being miserable,” Hunk retorts. “Just kiss each other or something! I’ve been trying to drop hints, but obviously your tactical brilliance doesn’t extend to your romantic life!”

People are always surprised at how nimbly Hunk can move, when he has a mind to; he’s big, but he’s never been awkward. He knows exactly how to use his body to accomplish a task. Now, he steps forward, shoves Shiro into Keith’s personal space, and sidles behind Keith so he can escape the workroom and shut the door behind him. Hunk does not need a front-row seat to what happens next (though he wouldn’t mind a thank-you note from the involved parties, if things resolve how he thinks they’re going to).

“Shiro,” he hears Keith say. He’s using his brave tone of voice — Hunk and Pidge used to play ‘Keith Emotes Bingo’ back during the war, and as a result categorized just about every way Keith has ever said Shiro’s name. “Shiro, please. Just look at me.”

“Keith,” Shiro says. “I never _stop_ looking at you. You’re so good, and strong, and — ” A scuffling noise, a low moan.

Hunk moves away from the door. This is a private moment.

Besides, he has a feeling that he’s gonna have an occasion for that celebration cake sooner, rather than later. He might as well start experimenting with that miso-caramel.

*

“That’s hilarious,” PIdge tells Hunk as he puts the finishing touches on the cake. He was tempted to do a mirror glaze with a galaxy design, but really: Keith and Shiro do not need any more drama, not even in cake decorating.

“What, the part where they had no clue, or — ”

“The part where Shiro tried to give you the shovel talk,” Pidge says. “Amazing. I can’t wait to tell Matt.”

“I mean, looking back, I can kinda see how he got that idea,” Hunk shrugs. “I’ve got to stop taking diplomacy clues from Allura.”

“Not subtle,” Pidge agrees. “But you and Keith?”

“I should be so lucky,” Hunk says, primly. He wipes a trace of frosting off the edge of the cake plate and admires the writing he managed on top: _To Shiro and Keith_ , the cake says: _Fucking Finally_. The drop lines took three tries to get right.

“If you’re into that sort of thing,” Pidge concedes, in the tone of a person who isn’t particularly into anyone, as far as Hunk can tell.

“Trust me,” he tells them. “Shiro is way more into him than I could ever be.”

“Shut _up_ , they’re like my other parents,” Pidge squawks. “Can I lick the bowl?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Hunk tells them, handing the bowl and its accompanying spatula over. “Ignore my hard work, I’m just a humble baker — ”

“Oh, Hunk,” Pidge tells him. Their sincerity is only slightly marred by the frosting smudged across their nose. “Pal, you’re not _just_ anything. You’re great, too.”

“Thank you.” A beat. “Probably gonna hang up my matchmaking hat, though, that was stressful.”

“It was a public service, really,”

“Was it, though?” Hunk shudders. Fantasies are all well and good, but he didn’t need to walk in on Keith and Shiro kissing in his workroom, as if it’s the only room on base with a door. It’s just too weird, having seen the leisurely way Shiro pinned Keith against the wall, using his big prosthetic to hike Keith's thigh up over Shiro’s hip. Pidge isn’t wrong: it was not dissimilar to walking in on Hunk’s own parents kissing or exchanging flirtatious sweet-talk. “I didn’t need to see them making out in my workroom.”

“See, that’s why it was a service — Shiro was only _figuratively_ marking his territory before. Now he’s doing it literally.”

“Ugh,” Hunk says, with feeling. “Don’t be the worst, Pidge, I’d hate to lose the other half of Team Punk. Now get off the counter, I wanna take a picture of this cake for posterity.”

“Fucking finally,” Pidge reads. “It’s like a fairytale, Hunk.”

“One with a happily ever after,” Hunk tells Pidge. He means it.

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in some alternate version of the show that ends after season seven, Allura lives, and everything is fine. 
> 
> While originally started as a fill for Trope Bingo prompt N-3 (okay yes we’re dating but it’s a SECRET!!!, requested by [@existence_proof](https://twitter.com/existence_proof)), this quickly morphed into a matchmaking story. 
> 
> It is also an ode to Hunk. I love Hunk. So much. 
> 
> I wrote this in about 24 hours and I had a splendid time. I hope you enjoyed reading it.
> 
> Come talk to me on twitter! I’m [@boggremlin](https://twitter.com/boggremlin).


End file.
